


Chance Liaison

by windstar127



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windstar127/pseuds/windstar127
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tabris seeks comfort from an unexpected source before the army marches to Denerim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Liaison

_Wait until after the battle. There's no use trying to cope with something that hasn't happened yet._

That was what Loghain told her, but it wasn't the battle that worried her. It was the waiting itself. Kallian had never been patient, not as a child growing up in the Alienage, and certainly not now. The army marched at dawn, but dawn was still hours away, which gave her plenty of time for brooding and worrying. Rather than wear out the floor and the patience of everyone around her pacing in Castle Redcliffe, she instead chose to circle the edge of the army camp, wandering aimlessly and hoping that something might be dumb enough to confront her.

Nothing was. At the edge of midnight, the world was oddly calm and still. Lingering campfires dotted the distance where the army camped in the fallow (and blighted) fields. There was no danger, neither undead creeping out from the castle, nor any darkspawn lurking anywhere near the village. Stars shone bright and clear in the crisp night.

Kallian snarled into the shadows at nothing in particular and at everything. Nights like this, when she was on the road, she could almost imagine a life without the war and the Blight and just being home again.

She could never go home again.

She sighed and sprawled on a convenient outcropping of rock overlooking the village below. Denerim was going to fall to the darkspawn horde, and there was nothing she could do about it. The army would arrive too late. She could, she supposed, head out on her own and try to fight them all by herself, but that was a tactic reserved for heroes out of legendary tales, of which she was most definitely not. When all was said and done, she was a slum girl from the Alienage on a impossible quest to save Ferelden, and tonight, the night before battle, that task loomed larger and more hopeless than ever before. What did she have in her rag-tag band of would-be heroes? A general who killed his king and split the land with civil war, an Orlesian bard who would rather sing than fight, a mage alive only because of a fade spirit, a perpetually drunk dwarf, an Antivan assassin, and a Qunari from across the sea. Oh, and once she had the bastard prince of Ferelden. The king of Ferelden now, after the Landsmeet. Who was also not speaking to her and unlikely to speak to her ever again.

She was _the_ Warden. The only one that mattered in Ferelden anyways. The troops, the dwarves and elves and mages and even Arl Eamon's men, looked to her as their symbol of hope and victory. _The Warden will kill the archdemon and end the Blight._ Hadn't she heard that whispered around campfires and tents. _The Warden will fix everything._

What if she wasn't some mythical Grey Warden from legend who rides a griffin and kills hundreds of darkspawn singlehandedly? (In all fairness, she probably had done the latter by now. If she ever bothered to keep count.) What if she was just a girl in over her head trying to keep a cobbled-together alliance from falling apart from sheer force of will alone? She knew nothing of tactics or strategy or war. All she knew was how to survive, but surviving wasn't the same thing as winning. She lay there, letting the rocks leach the warmth from her body until she was numb and too cold to shiver. If she didn't feel, she could be the figurehead the army needed her to be. The cold settled in her bones and left no place for fear or doubt. The slab of rock was her bier, and she was a statue of granite and ice, an effigy of a hero.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a creak of branches and the soft crunch of boots on dead grass. She rose, breaking the tableau. One hand dropped automatically to the dagger at her hip.

"Whoever you are, you might as well come out," she called into the night. "I know you're there. If you come out now, this will end peacefully."

"Warden," a woman's voice, low and reserved, came from behind the trees. "When my sentries reported a suspicious elf lingering near the camp, I did not expect it to be you."

"Ser Cauthrien," Kallian watched as the knight stepped out into the small clearing. Her dark hair was drawn back into a severe tail, but a few strands escaped and fell into her equally dark eyes, brown eyes so dark as to be black, like chips of obsidian, sharp enough to draw blood. Her features were too strong to be beautiful on a woman's face, but Kallian found the knight handsome nonetheless. In the frigid early spring night, the knight wore a simple chain shirt belted over a leather tunic and woolen leggings with evidence of being hastily donned. Slung cross her back was the famed Summer Sword. There was an easy aura of command about her even though she had been woken and tumbled out of bed in the middle of the night.

"What do you want of me, ser knight?" Kallian asked. "Whatever it is, make it quick. I've no wish for idle chatter."

"Then permit me to thank you, Warden, and I shall take my leave," Ser Cauthrien inclined her head in a polite nod. "You showed mercy where others would not have. Thank you, Warden, for sparing my lord and giving him the chance to atone."

"You thank me for his life but not your own? Does it matter so little to you then?" Kallian asked, intrigued.

"I serve, Warden. So long as I serve, in life or in death, I am content. But," here, the knight's voice trembled though her stern expression did not change, "...but thank you, Warden, for sparing me, for I am no less guilty of death than he. But I've taken enough of your time, and you wished to be alone. Fare thee well, Warden." With that, the knight bowed, pivoted on her heels, and strode back towards the camp.

"Wait," Kallian said, the word leaving her mouth unbidden. "Please."

* * *

Cauthrien stopped and turned at the quiet command. The young woman stood alone against a backdrop of cliffs and stars, all lean muscle and cold grey eyes, wearing neither armor nor cloak, but only a thin cotton shirt and breeches. Delicately pointed ears peeked out from under unruly black curls. So young, so beautiful, and so very dangerous.

"Warden," Cauthrien kept her voice still as she answered. "What do you wish of me?"

"Stay. Please," the Warden dropped her gaze to the ground. "I...I'd like to ask something of you, if I may."

"Yes?"

"How do you do it? Command your men, I mean. How do you lead them into battle and watch them die? How do you do it and stay sane?"

"Experience. And grief. and guilt." She owed the elf a straight answer at least. "No one stays sane. They just have different ways of coping, be it drink or religion or something else entirely."

"That's what Loghain said too."

"Who do you think I learned it from? But why talk to me, Warden, and not one of your companions?"

"I...I can't talk to them. Not about this. Not about being fucking terrified. They need me to be a hero, even Loghain, though he'd never admit it, and I'm not. But...but you...you were my enemy once, so I doubt you'd harbor such silly illusions of me. So it's safer to tell you than anyone else. You don't need me to be a hero or a legend or whatever Arl Eamon thinks he needs to rally the troops today."

"So I see."

"Do you also think I'm some sort of hero, Ser Cauthrien?" the Warden asked coldly.

"No, I think you're beautiful," she answered without thinking.

"Please don't jest with me, ser knight."

"I don't jest," Cauthrien stepped closer to the trembling young woman. "Not about things like this. I think you're beautiful. I thought so the first time I saw you, though that was neither the time nor place to think of such things."

"The first time we met, you were about to arrest me for killing Howe."

"He deserved it, certainly, though I could hardly say so as the Captain of the Guard. But you, you were so striking that I wondered...I'm sorry, Warden, please forgive my familiarity."

"No," she shook her head. "I...I rather like it, ser knight. What did you wonder of me? Tell me, please. I won't mind."

"I wondered...I wondered what it would be like to kiss you," Cauthrien said quietly, grateful for the darkness that hid the rising flush on her face.

"Oh," the Warden gasped, eyes wide with astonishment. "I...well...you could kiss me now, if you like."

"I make it a rule not to dally with those under my command," Cauthrien shook her head. It was a common enough excuse, and she had used it often enough in the past to avoid awkward entanglements.

"But I'm not under your command, ser knight. If anything, you're under mine," the Warden said with a quirk of a smile.

"True enough," Cauthrien managed to say. The loud pounding of her heart threatened to drown out the Warden's words. A pleasant warmth spread through her belly and between her legs.

"And unlike you, I have no such rules." The Warden came closer, stopping mere inches away, and laid one cold slim hand against Cauthrien's cheek. Cauthrien shivered, not from the cold, and stared into a pair of steady grey eyes. She'd been a soldier long enough to recognize a lost fight when she saw one. "Kiss me, ser knight," the Warden said...no, commanded.

So she did, pulling the young woman close to her and tangling her hand in the Warden's hair. The Warden pressed against her, moaning into the kiss and wrapping her arms tight around Cauthrien. They broke apart for a split second, and then Cauthrien kissed her again, fierce and possessive. The Warden whimpered and twitched as Cauthrien's hands wandered down her back. Cauthrien pulled back and traced the Warden's panting lips with the tip of her finger.

"Maker, but you're near frozen," Cauthrien gently chided the young woman in her arms. "Come, I won't have you catching your death of cold out here."

* * *

The tent was small and cramped, but blissfully warm. No sooner had they entered did Kallian find herself pressed against the canvas with Ser Cauthrien's hands on her shoulders.

"Tell me stop, before I do something you'll regret come morning," the knight growled into her ear, one finger lightly running over the sensitive tip. Kallian bit a soft moan.

"I don't want you to stop," Kallian whispered, her voice soft and husky with desire. "I want you, ser knight. I want to share your bed tonight. Maker only knows what will happen tomorrow, so I want this night, now, with you."

"No titles. Not here, not now."

"Cauthrien," Kallian whispered and ever so slowly raised one hand to caress the knight's face. "I want you, Cauthrien."

"Good," Cauthrien's soft lips curled in a lean predatory smile as she began to toy with the laces on Kallian's shirt. "Tabris. You're wearing far too much clothing."

"So...so are you," Kallian replied, closing her eyes as Cauthrien's hands moved lower to cup her breasts and stroked her erect nipples.

"Then help me remove it."

Armor and clothing fell to the floor as eager fingers undid straps and lacings. Cauthrien, naked to the waist, smiled and let out a low gasp of pleasure as Kallian kissed her, hesitantly at first, then progressively bolder, exploring and caressing her body. She let her fingers linger over and trace the web of scars on Cauthrien's arms and back, the rough ridges a sharp contrast from soft expanses of skin.

"So many," she whispered and buried her face in Cauthrien's shoulder.

"I've been a soldier for many years, Tabris. It's to be expected," Cauthrien lifted one hand to stroke her hair. "Do...do you find it repelling?" Cauthrien's voice trembled as she spoke.

"No..." Kallian shook her head and kissed Cauthrien again. "I find you very attractive."

"Good." Cauthrien started to unlace her shirt. It was soon discarded, followed shortly by her trousers and small clothes. Kallian whimpered as cold air hit exposed skin, and then Cauthrien was touching her, nipping at her throat and then at her breasts, alternating sharp bites and gentle nibbles. Somehow, in all of that, they made their way to the narrow cot. Cauthrien pushed her back against the rough woolen blankets and left a trail of white hot kisses from the hollow of her throat down her chest and belly. Kallian gasped and jerked her hips up to rub against Cauthrien's waiting hand.

Molten chocolate brown eyes gleaming with passion gazed at her, and Kallian felt a rush of warmth between her legs and a building fire low in her belly. She was no statue now, but a woman of flesh and blood melting under Cauthrien's tender caresses.

"Touch me? Please?" she begged, and Cauthrien obliged with a lazy smile. Calloused fingers parted her labia and eased her open. Cauthrien slipped one hand under her head and cradled her and slowly, ever so slowly, brushed the other against her swollen clit to pleasure her. The first featherlight touches made her squirm and whimper. Cauthrien rubbed harder now, fingers moving in tight circles and swirls. Waves of warmth crested and broke over her, and Kallian moaned and shuddered as Cauthrien touched and teased her most sensitive place. Cauthrien's hair fell loose now in waves of dark silk over her shoulders and breasts, and her eyes glazed with pleasure and need.

"May I?" Cauthrien asked, pressing two fingers against her opening. Kallian nodded weakly, unable to speak coherently as Cauthrien favored her with another dangerous smile before penetrating her slick warmth with smooth languid strokes. Each stroke brought her closer and closer to the edge. Kallian thrashed, sobbing and gasping with pleasure, as Cauthrien flexed her fingers and hit her _there_ , again and again, until she could longer bear the building pressure inside her. And then she came, hot and wet and excited and screaming her lover's name, all over Cauthrien's hand. She fell back limply as Cauthrien gently removed her hand from between her legs and licked it clean.

"You taste good," Cauthrien smirked as Kallian lay back against the blankets, eyes closed and panting, and then kissed her hard. Kallian tasted herself on Cauthrien's lips and almost came again. Cauthrien laughed then, low and smoky and sending another jolt of pleasure through her. "You like that, do you?"

"Yes..."

* * *

Cauthrien sat back at the foot of the cot, watching Tabris whimper and moan as the aftershocks hit her and feeling herself grow hot and wet at the sight. She let her hands wander over Tabris's pert breasts and down her legs. Tabris opened her eyes and looked back at her, grey eyes sparkling with delight.

"My turn," Tabris pushed herself up and then pressed one hand against the growing damp spot at the crotch of Cauthrien's leggings. "Do you want this?"

Cauthrien bit back a cry and felt herself tighten as Tabris brushed against her again. "Maker, yes," she managed through clenched teeth. "Do with me what you will."

"As you wish," Tabris whispered in her ear.

She pushed down Cauthrien's leggings and small clothes and, then, with a mischievous smile, kissed her moist folds before sitting up again. Cauthrien whimpered, eyes glazing over with naked need and desire as Tabris kissed and petting and caressed every inch of her, retracing every battle scar and setting her skin ablaze with smoldering kisses. Slim fingers fondled her nipples until they were hard, and Cauthrien fought from losing control completely. Tabris smiled and shifted until Cauthrien lay on the cot, then leaned close suck her breasts Those tantalizing kisses moved lower and lower, and Cauthrien cried out, arching her back and grasping at anything to hold onto.

Tabris sucked and licked Cauthrien's clit with smooth easy swirls, and then looked up and licked her lips, grey eyes piercing and intense before flicking her tongue in and out of Cauthrien and drinking her up. Cauthrien choked back another moan and thrust her hips eagerly against Tabris's mouth as she came to the cusp. Tabris drew back, teasing a pleading sob from Cauthrien.

"Please," Cauthrien begged. "Please, Tabris, don't stop."

Then, slowly, carefully, Tabris stroked Cauthrien's dripping folds with the tips of her fingers and slipped two fingers in her slick warm depths. Cauthrien gasped as the unexpected pressure inside her and cried out in exquiste agony. Tabris thrust her hand in and out, and Cauthrien squirmed and whined and pushed against her. Another finger joined the first two, and then another, streching and filling her. It burned, but in a wonderful way that made her yearn for more. Cauthrien looked up in the throes of pleasure to see Tabris thrust her hand wrist deep inside and moaned and begged in soft broken words for Tabris to not stop. To never stop. She shook and cried and clenched down on Tabris's hand harder and tighter with each stroke until she came with a shuddering sob. She fell back bonelessly and limp as the aftershocks hit her.

"Did you like that?" Tabris asked, easing her hand out gently and bending down to kiss Cauthrien's clit.

Cauthrien nodded, too tired to speak. Tabris stroked her again, running her slim hands down Cauthrien's body, and curled up against her, curve against curve, resting her cheek on Cauthrien's shoulder and draping herself over her. Cauthrien wrapped one arm around Tabris's slim waist and held her close.

* * *

They lay tangled together, basking and dozing in the warm afterglow. Morning and battle would come soon enough, but for now, Kallian could enjoy snuggling against Cauthrien's hard muscular body and kissing and caressing her as she wished.

"Cauthrien," she nuzzled her lover and stroking her dark silken locks. "Thank you. For everything."

"The pleasure was mine," Cauthrien whispered back. "Warden..."

"No titles, not tonight," Kallian shushed Cauthrien with a kiss. "You promised."

"So I did," Cauthrien smiled. "Tabris. Thank you, for a marvelous night. I've not had someone share my bed in a very long time and I hope...I was not too clumsy."

"You're not. You weren't," Kallian said. "You were wonderful."

"So you don't..."

"I'm glad you found me, Cauthrien. I envy your other lovers."

"You're too kind...but...whatever happens after this...whatever comes in the morning..."

"I won't regret this...and I won't forget you, Cauthrien. Whatever happens."


End file.
